


in the name of you

by theboyoracle



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Elf!Spock, M/M, Prince!Kirk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7846120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theboyoracle/pseuds/theboyoracle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a medieval AU spock/kirk multichapter. kirk is a cheeky prince with a lot to live up to, and spock is an elf from the vulcan clan. when the romulan elves threaten the land with war, the two come together to protect their homes (and each other). also uhura is a knight so what more could you want??</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. anything rash

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoy, pls consider throwing me a dollar @ my paypal as i am trying to pay for college supplies and am unable to work a job right now! thank you!

There’s something thrilling about running. No sense of direction, just running. And there’s something still thrilling about running, despite being chased. Or, maybe it makes running even more fun?

Flashes of light dance across blue eyes as Kirk ducks through the marketplace, shadows of tents and stalls making patterns with the sunlight. He lifts his legs, leaping effortlessly over a bale of hay someone was pushing and speeding down the market’s path towards the center of town.

He slips under laundry, twists around women hauling baskets full of grain, and dodges a blacksmith sending sparks outwards from his hammer. The sounds, the smells, Kirk loves it. But it’s the faces of these people that really capture his attention. These are his people, the regular people, the people he doesn’t get to see on a regular basis. It’s what makes his “excursions” so special. Just being out, seeing it. Without anyone knowing who he is.

He slides into the center of town, where a fountain lays before the steps of the castle, the heart of the hold. A second or two passes before he can even begin to hear the clinking of the knights in armor hurrying to keep up with him. He smirks beneath the shadow of the hood over his head.

Something witty comes to mind but before he can draw a breath to say anything, a hard fist connects with his shoulder, sending him stumbling sideways.

“Hey!” his first instinct is to argue, throwing the fabric down from over his head and turning to see-

“Uhura it’s me,” Kirk’s brows knit.

“That’s Ser Uhura, my liege.” She pulls the front of her helmet upwards, exposing the pretty complexion beneath. There’s a healthy bite to her voice. Good to know the knights didn’t break her, he thinks.

“Yeah, for all of like, two days,” Kirk rolls his eyes.

The two of them were friends as children, and although Nyota was not royalty, her family was always part of the nobility, allowing her into the ranks of a squire from a young age. Now, she stands before him as a knight of the kingdom. And Kirk is… not far from where he was as a child. Still a prince.

“Your Grace!” the knights finally catch up, huffing under the chainmail and cloth. “We took you for a thief! We could have arrested you!”

A smirk passes his face and he turns to face them. The only one of them not out of breath is the great knight, a sort of military specialist, as the king is the technical leader of the knights.

“Could have,” Kirk responds, “but didn’t. I’m trying to keep you on your toes!” His eyes light as a broad smile finds itself over his mouth.

“His Kingship has been looking for you all morning,” the great knight steps forwards. Ser Abner never smiles, or so it seems. As a child, Kirk always thought of him as a scary old man, and that opinion hasn’t really changed much. The only thing Kirk respects about the man is his ability to make hard decisions. Sure, Kirk is only a prince, but his input matters; he’s present at all and any meetings the king attends. Speaking of whom…

“Oh, good,” the prince rolls his eyes, “what does Christo-”

“I will escort my liege to the King,” Uhura cuts him off, earning a blue-eyed glare. Ser Abner nods and begins dismissing his knights to their correct posts. Uhura ushers Kirk away from the knights and the two begin walking up the long steps to the castle doors.

“Hey,” he hisses, “I thought you were on my side?”

Uhura rolls her eyes.

“I am,” she says. “Christopher Pike is our King, _your_ King, and I know you’ve grown up with him but you can’t just refer to him so casually.”

“But I-”

“ _Even_ if you’re the prince,” Uhura removes her helmet in a swift motion as the guards open the door, her dark ponytail unfurling like a ribbon down the steel of her back. “I’m nobility too, you know.”

“Right, right,” Kirk huffs a sigh as the pair move through the main hall and up a large, divided marble staircase. “It’s just… he’s not… my father.”

Uhura pauses a moment and looks down sympathetically. Kirk almost brushes it off with a joke or something witty, but she picks up her pace. “Trust me, no one knows that more than he does.”

The rest of their short walk is spent in silence, something Kirk generally tries to avoid. He never knew his father well. While his mother gave birth to him in in a caravan rushing away from the Romulan attack, his father remained to lead a makeshift army against them. The king and queen had been celebrating in a nearby town, out in the country, with guards, of course. But the Romulans were hiding among them from the moment they stepped into town. They call it an assassination, but Kirk could drive himself mad trying to decide whether or not his father died honorably in battle or if it was truly an assassination. Instead, he doesn’t think about it.

Uhura walks into the room first; a long hall with a tall ceiling, most of the way down is a few steps up and a throne. The seat is more than adequate, a symbol of the countryside, done up in fine leathers and pelts and furs. Carved from wood, the throne sits tall in the back, and the ends of the armrests display the faces of eagles, the Kirk house sigil. Though the King is not a Kirk, he is the leader the hold needs.

Pike is standing by the throne instead of being seated, accompanied by a group of nobles. He can tell Pike hates it, but constant meetings and such are necessary. They whisper in hushed, urgent tones. Then again, they always do. Kirk resists rolling his eyes at them.

When he sees them, the king immediately dismisses his court and his legs carry him across the hall quickly and powerfully, leaving the other men in the dust. Uhura stands at attention with a rigid back, lifting her chin up ever so slightly, helmet nestled tightly between her hip and arm.

Pike nods at her and she steps to the side. Kirk tries avoiding eye contact and just pouting, but he knows it’s not working. When he looks up, he’s less than surprised to see the king standing there with his arms crossed and a brow quirked, looking irritated and completely unamused. Looks like pouting isn’t the right path. Instead, he forms a wide smile and begins chuckling.

“My King, I-”

“James.”

Kirk somehow feels that coming. He brushes it off.

“Well, you see…”

“We need to talk, James,” Pike glares. There’s a strange worried look behind his eyes that Kirk doesn’t see when he’s being berated.

Uhura can see it too. He knows because the two of them turn and connect in that moment, both with an impending sense of dread and confusion and hoping, hoping that nothing terrible has happened. Uhura takes her leave by Pike’s command, adjusting her hair up and putting her helmet on before walking away. Kirk loses the attitude and follows the king closer, walking with him slowly towards the small court assembled.

“What…” he isn’t sure how to start. “Is everything… okay?”

King Pike sighs, shoulders dropping, and in that moment he looks older than Kirk has ever seen him look. Of course the man has lines of age carved into his face, silver at his temples where it used to be dark, and a weariness to him that has always been interpreted as wiseness, but only now does Kirk really see him as, well, old. Pike looks tired.

“Promise me you won’t do anything rash.”

Kirk looks at the ground. He isn’t sure he can promise the king that.

“I’ll try,” is all he says. Pike nods, folding his hands behind his back and stopping for a moment.

“It’s the elves. They’ve returned to the countryside. In the name of war.”

Elves. Most clans of them happen to be quite peaceful, logical people of spectacular intellect. However, Kirk knows very well which elves Pike is referring to when the word is used in proximity to “war.” The Romulan Clan, who they ran out of the country before, after the assassination of King Kirk.

But now, if what Pike and his council say is true, this time they mean war.


	2. hushed whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as more news of the romulans comes to light, kirk and spymaster sulu prepare to head west looking for answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! a new chapter! thanks for all the kudos and things for the first chapter it means so much! feel free to comment and things, i love hearing from people.

“There are villages to the west that have been run straight through. Supplies pillaged, people interrogated.”

“This isn’t like them…”

“They know these are acts of war, don’t they?”

“My lords, if I may…”

“Of course, Sulu.”

Kirk looks up, having forgotten Sulu would be attending the council meeting today. The two of them have been friends since Kirk’s schooling days, taught by noble maesters in the castle. Sulu’s family isn’t from the kingdom, but an outside village. However, the remnants of noble blood further back in his line and his exceptional smarts and ability easily landed him a place in Pike’s court as a spymaster apprentice. The two saw each other occasionally since then. Kirk probably would’ve seen him more often if he made an effort to show up to council meetings.

“The western villages here provide much of our grains,” Sulu reminds them, running a gloved hand over the map on the table. “There are no reports of burned crops, only some stolen supplies and invaded homes.”

“So what, the Romulans are petty thieves now?” a councilman asks.

“Not at all,” Sulu steps back, clasping his hands behind him. “This suggests that the Romulan clan is looking for something.”

Kirk looks over as Pike adjusts his seat, leaning forwards to put his elbows against the table, hands folding neatly beneath his nose.

“Like what?” the king asks, brows furrowing.

“Uh, nothing good,” everyone is a little startled to hear Kirk’s voice. Most council meetings are dull, and Jim’s never had reason to stay interested for too long, much less speak on the matter. He realizes the room staring at him and shrugs. “Ok… I mean, why would elves be searching for anything?”

“Because we ran them out of land that used to be theirs and killed their mages when they resisted?” Sulu has never been one for beating around the bush. Some noblemen cast glances his way and he muttered a quiet “what?” under his breath.

Kirk rolls his eyes.

“Well, sure, but what I’m saying is that they’re elves. If I was an elf, what would I be searching for all the way out here?” the prince looks across the the court members.

“Something…” Pike lowers his head in thought.

“ _Magical_ ,” Kirk raises his eyebrows.

The room seems to suddenly fill with hushed whispers and worried glances, walls breathing to inhale the ghosts of anxiety created by one word. Kirk watches as Sulu and the elder spymaster speak lowly to one another, the elder’s face shadowed by the heavy hood draped over his head. Indistinguishable chatter and looks of concern are exchanged and for the first time in a long time, Kirk feels anxious. When he looks over, it seems Pike has picked up on this. The king leans back in his chair.

“Master Sulu,” he announces, catching the other man’s attention. “You’re the fastest rider in the east and a formidable navigator. I want you to take Prince Kirk and a handful of knights to a western village or two and ask them about the Romulans.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“For now, we will not worry our people with warnings until we know what it is the elves are looking for. I’m done here for now.”

The entire court stands as Pike leaves his seat and briskly begins to return to the hall. Kirk almost stays behind to have a word with Sulu, but, caught off-guard by his sudden assignment, hurries after the king, his sheathed dagger clicking along his side.

“Pike, Pike-!” But the king continues into the hall. Kirk huffs. “My king.”

He stops and turns, cape flipping about the shape of him to swirl around to his back. Pike lifts a brow.

“Are you… sure? I mean, that you want me to go out there?”

“James, I trust you.”

“I,” Kirk struggles to find words, staggering over his thoughts, “I know, I know you do, I just… you know how I feel about the elves. And you always say that my emotions tend to get in the way of things.”

“James.” Pike puts a hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “That is exactly why I need you out there. You need to relate to these people. Feel for them. Empathize. They know you. They will trust you more than they trust Sulu or the knights. They will see you and they will know that someone understands them.”

He does. He does understand them. Kirk knows what it’s like to fear elves. To hate them, even; the Romulans especially. He knows what it is to lose. The westerners perhaps haven’t lost things on the same scale as he, but Kirk knows they’ll have been traumatized by the experiences. Since the late king’s assassination, the eastern kingdom and all of its outlying villages have faced elves with wariness and a healthy amount of fear. To have Romulans suddenly return, to farming villages equipped with no means of fighting - Kirk knows how the people must feel. Head tilting to the side, he breathes a sigh, allowing his lungs to deflate. It’s almost as if he’s trying to will his uncertainty to leave him.

“Okay,” he finally says.

The king nods, stepping back. Pike glances over his shoulder, knowing he’ll soon have other matters to attend to.

“Listen,” Pike says, “go tell your mother you’ll be going. Then pick your knights with Sulu and prepare for the morning ride.”

“Wh- my mother?” Kirk can’t help be startled and yell. His mother can be… difficult to deal with at times, even though he loves her to death.

Pike just chuckles, already halfway down the hall.

 

//

 

Kirk weasels his way into the kitchens like he always did as a child, snagging a cheesy bread and stuffing it in his face before taking a tart of some kind for his mother. He makes sure to hurry out just as one of the cooks starts threatening him with her wooden spoon.

His mother still lives in the castle; it’s the best and safest place for her to be. Technically, she is the queen, even though she isn’t married to the king. Then again, Pike isn’t really a king either. More of a guardian. Kirk’s mother was willing to admit that she could not rule the kingdom, not in her state. She spoke for herself and her husband when she finally decided Pike should become the honorary leader of the kingdom. Kirk remembers when she tried to get Christopher to wear the crown. He refused, of course, said it wouldn’t be right for a non-Kirk to wear it. The crown still waits in the castle for the day James will wear it.

Knock-knock-knock!

“Come in!” his mother’s voice became gravelly over time, and her words sound like barks now compared to how they used to be. As a child, Kirk foolishly thought it was because she cried so much. Now, she doesn’t cry much, but her voice has still worn.

He takes a breath and lets himself in, holding the little blueberry tart behind his back.

“Mother, I come with news!”

The woman sits up hurriedly, dirty blonde hair lifted in unruly ringlets around her head like a halo of messy waves.

“That you’re getting married and I can rest easily knowing I will have grandchildren?”

He- what? Kirk stares blankly at his mother and a good few seconds of silence pass over them.

“I guess not then,” she grumbles, returning to what Kirk initially thought was a loom of some sort, but is actually a sharpening stone.

“Ma, what are you doing?”

She lifts the knife up, letting the light catch it. It’s hilt is bound tightly in dark leather, in between a sleek, silver guard and pommel. The blade itself is impressively large, dark and tapered to a fine point. A curved dagger, one of the best he’s ever seen. She stands and flips it around in her grip, dexterous fingers easily handling its balance. Kirk can’t tell if he’s impressed or just terrified.

“I made it,” she states blankly. “I had a little help from Scotty. But it’s mostly mine.” She dumps the blade unceremoniously into her son’s hand.  
Kirk sets the tart on the table by the door. He runs his fingers over the smooth surface and thumbs the silver of the dagger. It feels light but powerful.

“This one is really good…” he says. “I’m serious.” He glances to a pile of unfinished steel shapes in the corner of her room by the hearth and laughs. “Took you a few tries?”  
She glares at him, sitting on the edge of her bed and crossing her arms.

“Don’t even start,” her voice is firm, but there’s a smile at the edges of her lips that he’s happy to see. “I want you to have it.”

“For what occasion?” Kirk grins, quirking a brow. He looks down to the dagger already on his hip. “Pike gave me this one-”

“That’s a child’s toy,” she scoffs, tucking her hair behind an ear. Kirk makes a sound of disbelief, managing to get his mother to chuckle. “Maybe not, but I’m serious that you need a serious blade in addition to your sword. Besides, aren’t you going somewhere soon?”

“Wha- how did you know that?” he looks up quickly to meet her smug gaze.

“I have ways of knowing things.” The woman stands and picks the tart from the table. “For me?”

Kirk nods.

“Thank you,” she runs a finger along the circumference of the crust, listening to the sound of it, perfectly baked, and the texture of the hardened dough. She always was interested in baking, but for whatever reason, never pursued it. “What will you call it?” She turns and watches Kirk exchange his old dagger for the newly crafted one.

“ _Intuition_ , I think,” he says. The queen seems pleased. She steps forwards and hugs him.

“Go get your knights, James. Have Master Sulu send me a raven.”

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spymaster sulu is my dream come true. also kirk's mom tho. please let me know what you think!


	3. the path forwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk, Sulu, Uhura, and the knights start their way to Tia, the village that had been attacked by Romulans.

Jim picks a perfectly capable group of six to seven knights. A good amount, not too few, not too many. Of course, numbers do matter, especially for the outlying villages. A handful of knights means a scouting trip or some kind of investigation, such as he’s currently involved with. Any more than ten means trouble, and multiple groups of four or five knights means that anyone who isn’t in their home should go inside and lock the door.

He doesn’t want to alert anyone, so he sticks with a smaller group. In the morning, he wakes as usual. A servant brings him breakfast, but he assures the boy he will dress himself today. Generally, a prince accepts the privileges given to him; a servant to wash, feed, dress, and look after him. Make his bed, keep after his documents, sharpen his sword, clean his armor. Things like this. Maybe if his life had been different, Kirk would have accepted these gifts. But for the most part, he does things on his own. In the eastern countryside where he lives, having a servant do everything for you is generally received in poor taste anyway. Pike taught him that.

The prince dresses in standard scouting gear. The ensemble entails light, breathable fabrics underneath sturdier leather pieces, as weightless as armor can be. Traditional eastern sigils, namely renditions of eagles and feathers, are carved and branded into the leather. He tightens his gauntlets and boots and heads out.

Sulu meets him at the castle doors, which have been opened. The huge wooden arcs are pulled back, letting in the early morning rays that dance around the animal fur rugs and carved wooden furnishings of the main hall. He looks properly outfitted as well, in dark clothes and a cowl of sorts, hood hanging loosely around his shoulders instead of covering his cropped black hair. The only substantial armor he wears is the curved steel covering his legs. Kirk can’t see the belt underneath the dark cowl, but he can tell Sulu is carrying at least three or four different knives.

“Prince, your knights are in the center,” he gestures to the open area in front of the castle. The fountain bubbles quietly.

“Just call me Jim, Sulu,” Kirk responds, taking his one-shoulder pauldron from a servant beside him. He fixes it around his shoulders. The one pauldron is another eastern symbol, dark leather, with a dark gold-brown cape hanging from it that covers his arm and side.

The morning is cool, and Jim pulls on his leather gloves as he starts down the steps, surveying the small group of knights beside their horses. They’re all fully outfitted in steel armor and helmets. He saunters down the line of them, nodding at each one. At first, he doesn’t even notice anything out of the ordinary until he notices the striking black friesian at the end of the line. He turns, glancing at the horse before gently plodding up to its knight.

“Beautiful horse,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning. The horse snorts and tosses its mane, getting him to chuckle. “You know, there’s only one knight with a horse this snooty. Uhura.”

The knight casts a glance down, hanging onto the horse’s halter with one armored hand while using the other to remove the helmet. Uhura’s brows are pinned together in irritation, lips pursed as she stares at the ground in something akin to shame.

“Well! What do you know!” Kirk feigns surprise. “I don’t remember picking you to come with me!”

“You didn’t,” she responds with a deadpan.

Kirk lifts a brow, thinking about a response. They stand there, maintaining tense eye contact for a moment. No one dares breathe, much less make a sound, unnerved by the idea of what could happen should their silent challenges get interrupted. She needs to be there. The knights, they’re good, he picked them himself. But he’s known Uhura for a long time.

“Just put your helmet back on.” He turns around and heads towards his horse. Uhura smirks and does as she’s told. She’s the only one who can get away with challenging the prince the way she does, besides maybe the royal physician. He doesn’t think about it much, but Kirk needs the challenge. The constant back and forth game he and Uhura play, since their early childhoods, has been something they both need. In a way, it grounds Kirk, makes him feel a semblance of normality.

When Kirk turns to make his way back down the line, the knights ready, and he can see Sulu slipping black leather gloves on. They all wait for Kirk to mount his horse first; she’s a big white mare with a mane that looks like gold. Pike had been dead set on refusing Kirk the ability to ride her, as she had a proclivity for throwing her handlers off her back. This, however, only furthered Kirk’s desire to keep her, and honestly he wasn’t sure how Pike hadn’t seen that coming.

Much steadier now, the horse snorts and shifts beneath Kirk as he stretches his legs down into the stirrups. She barely stirs, instead chewing idly on the bit that clicks against her teeth. Sulu, Uhura, and the knights mount their horses after him, remaining in line for Kirk to pass in front of them. He nods to them, squinting against the rising sun.

He trusts these men, and Uhura, of course. If he had to, he would die for them. Most of the council finds Kirk unbearably rash because of this will. He doesn’t think his life more valuable than anyone else’s, even if he can be cocky and immature sometimes (a lot of the time). The council, though, are more concerned about the royal line. Kirk has a name. A home. A people to protect.

Sometimes he thinks about what his life would have been if he weren’t a prince, but the reminder of his father’s sacrifice drives the thought away. It isn’t in him to think about what ifs, only what can be. He’s always been more of a doer.

The prince and his knights make it through town. Sulu joins his side on the back of a slender brown horse when the streets open wide enough to allow it.

“Think we’ll make good time?” Kirk asks, looking over in time to catch Sulu’s expression. Sulu is the fastest rider Kirk knows, and one of the best navigators in the kingdom. His response to Kirk’s expression is one of bemusement and something akin to offense. Kirk chuckles. “I’m joking, Sulu.”

“The town we’re riding to is called Tia,” Sulu explains. Kirk and Pike had talked a little about the situation, but Sulu’s right to give Kirk a reminder. “The elves came in like bandits according to our sources there.”

“Tia has no protection?” Kirk glances at him with a raised brow. He knows that towns in his kingdom’s immediate vicinity are well-protected, but the further out villages go, the harder it is to ensure knights’ locations there. Tia must be too far, as much as Kirk regrets it. Sulu scoffs in response to his question.

“They grow wheat, sir. Wheat and barley,” the dark-haired man shifts slightly in the saddle. “They’re just farmers. No bandit with brains would see any good in looting the place.”

They’re quiet for a moment, horses walking briskly over the grass that had long since worn into a sort of path.

“People got hurt?” Kirk asks.

Sulu nods.

“Anyone die?”

“No sir,” Sulu says. “I doubt the Romulans are deliberately trying to get our attention. There would be other ways to do that.”

“But they don’t care if they do?” the prince offers.

Sulu huffs a sigh.

“I suppose not,” he says, tilting his chin up and looking down the hill at the waves of sparse little villages and trees that lie to the west. They’re hard to see from here, but Sulu knows each town’s location as if it is his nature. “Whatever they’re looking for must be important.”

Merchants and hunters watch the group go as they ride past the first few towns outside the kingdom’s immediate walls. Along the way, word must have gotten out. Each town they passed seemed to have more people gathered along the outskirts, waiting and waving, whistling and throwing flowers. Some people offered food that Kirk insisted they keep, but in the end accepted apples for the horses.

“Is it always like this?” Uhura asks from behind Kirk and Sulu as a group of laughing children begin to shrink in the growing distance behind them.

Sulu slows down slightly to join her side.

“No,” he smiles, shaking his head. “The people come out to see their prince. If it’s just me or the knights, they would never.”

Kirk’s a little glad the rest of them are behind them so they don’t see him gloat. He’s proud of himself. He’s proud of the people. Seeing them makes him glad to keep going, to keep doing whatever he can for them. The attention? Well, it’s just an added bonus.

“And why do they like him so much?” her tone gives away her playfulness. They know she’s not serious.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Sulu indulges her humor.

“I dunno, maybe they met him?”

The knights are dead silent. Even when Kirk laughs loudly, they’re more shocked with Uhura than anything else. They know she and the prince are close, but still wonder most days how she can get away with it. The prince tells her it was a good joke.

“You know I’m joking,” when she smiles, it lights up her eyes. “You’re a good prince. The people look up to you.”

“Thank you, Uhura,” Kirk glances back, smiling at her mischief. The two seem to share a silent laugh between them. “Sulu, get back up here, our destination can’t be too far away now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been AGES since i updated this fic, i was suffering through my first quarter of college. but i plan on updating monthly from here on out! i'm easing back into things with a kind of uneventful chapter, but i promise it's about to pick up speed! after all, spock is about to appear!


	4. rain and dirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk and his knights arrive at the town that had been confronted by Romulan elves. He searches for clues while Sulu and Uhura scout the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so far i've gotten some nice comments so i'm really trying to get chapters out! thank you very much for all the hits and kudos and whatnot. comments are really encouraging so if you have anything to say please just drop one by! i do plan on finishing this fic so i will keep trying to get chapters out consistently even though i know my schedule is not so great lately.

Like most western villages along their territory, Tia isn’t anything fancy. They’re a humble people living in a collection of thatch houses surrounded by farmland. Farmers here keep animals in pens of whittled wooden fences and plow fields of grain and vegetables. The dirt paths get muddy when it rains.

They arrive just before nightfall, greeted by the leader of the town’s watchmen and the owners of the farm where Kirk and his knights will be staying.

“The Tedric boys will show you to the home,” Reynolds says. “It’s humble, but we’ve made the accommodations you and your men will need.”

Kirk tries not to smile imagining Uhura’s face when the watchman refers to the knights as just “men.”

“Just let me know if you need anything else tonight and we’ll happily oblige." Reynolds is an older man, with gray cropped hair and a gray beard, and eyes as blue as ice. He looks capable, but he’s only one man and his fellow watchmen look more like farmers doing part-time.

Kirk nods to them and lets the three brothers lead the knights and their horses into town. It’s hard to see in the dying sunlight, but Kirk can tell that the fields have been disturbed. They weren’t sacked or burned, but rather turned over, dug out a little, disrupted in general.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Sulu whispers beside him. Kirk turns to him and nods.

They put their horses in the stables by the farm and accept the dinner from the Tedric family. It’s bland and plain, but Kirk knows better than to turn it down. He finishes his entire plate while talking lowly with Sulu about the town. The house has plenty of room and bedding for the knights. The woman of the house, the Tedric triplets’ younger sister, insists that Uhura stay in her room that she has made ready for her. She talks excitedly but nervously about meeting a woman knight.

Kirk was given the nicer room, the one that the late Tedric patriarch occupied previously, according to the men. Kirk said he’d settle with the rest of the knights, after all he doesn’t get to spend much time with them, but the Tedrics said no, no, and they insisted he take the room so he did.

By candlelight he runs his fingers over the Intuition, studying the blade that his mother crafted. She can’t be content with sewing and mending and embroidering, no, she has to go and make knives. He chuckles to himself and lays against the bed, taking in the smell of fresh wood and hay. Out here in the western outskirts of their territory, it smells of rain and dirt.

//

In the morning, the knights eat and gear up. Sulu offers a raven from his cage and Kirk writes a letter to his mother. Its wings flutter in a flurry of black as it carries the message through the air, flying back towards the kingdom. When they’re ready, Reynolds and his watchmen meet them outside.

“Everything’s adequate so far?” the man asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course, Reynolds,” Kirk says.

“Very well,” he seems pleased, “where’d you like to start?”

“Sulu,” Kirk holds a hand out and Sulu gives him a parchment listing the families whose homes were invaded and locations where supplies had been stolen. “Seems we have plenty to work with. Reynolds, do you think tonight you might get together everyone who was confronted by an elf?”

“I can do that, sire,” he nods.

“For now, let’s have a look at some of these.”

Kirk, Sulu, and Uhura begin in the grain silo and the fields while Reynolds takes the knights to some homes. Things are strewn about and there’s equipment missing, but not any substantial damage.

“They could have burned all of this down,” Uhura hums, shifting a pile of loose grain with her boot.

“I think our prince was correct,” Sulu’s crouched by the door, running his fingers along a mark made against the floor. “I do believe these elves were looking for something.”

Kirk looks over a field of stolen crops. These people aren’t going to make it if winter hits the way they think it will. His brow furrows.

“Let’s go check on what Reynolds and the knights found.”

The three of them meet the rest outside.

“You might want to come see this, sire,” Reynolds says to him. The watchman takes them to a house along the cobbled dirt road where some of the knights stand waiting by the door. Inside, there’s a woman sitting at a table embroidering something. Her fingers move swiftly with the needle and thread, pulling and plucking in a series of quick but elegant movements. She’s gnawing at the edge of her mouth, and pricks her finger with the needle when Kirk and the others come inside.

“Prince James, this is Adelize Bennett,” he says and gestures towards her. She pinches her bleeding finger in between a thumb and index finger and stands up, smoothing her shirt down.

“My prince,” she goes to curtsey, but simply recreates the gesture, dressed instead in dark pants and boots, her shirt tucked in and layered underneath a vest of some kind of animal pelt. Kirk nods to her, stepping forwards.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes,” she holds her hands close to her, “we’re a little shaken, that’s all. The town, you know. Nothing really happens here.”

She seems to be getting worked up.

“It’s okay to be afraid, Adelize,” he says, tilting his head down to catch her eyes and keep contact. “But I promise we’re going to be doing what we can here to sort this out.”

She nods. He and Reynolds ask a number of questions and Adelize calls over her younger sisters, the only other people who live in the house. According to them, a few elves had broken into their home and searched it while keeping them in a corner sat on the floor. Before they leave, Adelize thanks Kirk for coming and admits she never thought the prince would show up.

“Sulu, Uhura,” Kirk gestures them over once they’re all outside again. “Reynolds is getting together townspeople who were confronted by the Romulans. Can you two start a perimeter check or something?”

Sulu lifts a brow.

“What are we looking for?”

“Don’t look for anything,” Kirk struggles to find words. “Just be out there, you know?”

“If we see anything, we’ll come back to you,” Uhura says, and the two depart to their horses.

It takes the watchmen a while to get everyone gathered. Slowly, the town begins to come together. They’re not a shabby people, but humble, simple. Most of them dress in plain garments and have hair in need of washing. The men have beards, and they all look quite thin and tired, but that’s a given considering their recent troubles. They look disheartened more than afraid, and Kirk tries to imagine having supplies and food taken and what that might feel like. He clenches his jaw as Reynolds gets the people together.

After all this time, the Romulans had the nerve to show back up, and aggressively, too. He can’t stop thinking about it. His parents, the war, the fighting, the magic. Elves are an old race, he knows. They say the elves have always been able to tap into the old magic that lives within them, much stronger than a human would be able to. He always tries to think of it objectively, but he can’t lie to himself that he finds magic too dangerous and too unpredictable.

The thought is in the back of his mind nagging him as he goes through the townspeople and speaks to them individually about what happened. He comforts them when they get scared. Some are nervous, but his presence brings them back down to earth.

Kirk realizes after a while that the information isn’t too useful. No one knows what the elves were looking for or what they were doing there or where they came from. The afternoon is wearing on. He sits down at the table they moved outside and rubs his temples. There’s gotta be a way to figure this out, he thinks. Or at least get some kind of information.

It’s this moment that Sulu and Uhura come storming into town again - Uhura back in full armor and a helmet, and Sulu cloaked carefully with knives at his belt. She lifts the armor off her head, sweat glinting down her cheek.

“Kirk!” she calls over.

There’s a stern look in her eyes he can’t quite place, and gets up quickly to meet her. She looks down at him from her horse.

“There are elves in the woods.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know y'all are dying to see spock and it's happening next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> wow, pike is relevant, who knew  
> tbh he makes the perfect king. he's not a kirk, but everyone loves him. he does a good job.


End file.
